


All Dressed Up and Ready to Fuck

by AC-DD (anarchycox)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boot Worship, Feminisation, Fluff, Geralt is earnest and sincere, Jaskier at Kaer Morhen, Lambert POV, Lambert realizes who his one off was with, M/M, Sex, Stockings, boot kink, jaskier just wants to be a sugar daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/AC-DD
Summary: A continuation of the Farmer and the Lady.It is winter at Kaer Morhen and Lambert is stone cold shocked to see the man from the party next to Geralt and more shocked when he realizes that he had had sex with Geralt's bard. It all feels a bit awkward.Until he finds out that Jaskier had come to Kaer Morhen in hopes that their one night could be more nights. And had brought several very pretty gifts for Lambert to dress up in.Then it isn't awkward at all.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 42
Kudos: 199
Collections: Witcher Kinktober Ring





	All Dressed Up and Ready to Fuck

**Author's Note:**

> For boot worship in my kinktober journey with the incredible kaermorons and what about the fish
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/26856541 link to the first encounter jaskier and lambert had but you don't super need to read it to understand this fic

Lambert was on the ramparts, working on a few repairs, when he spied Geralt and a companion. He headed down and went into the keep. “Geralt will be here in the hour,” he told Vesemir who was hanging furs and tapestries to help warm the hall. “Has someone with him.”

“Probably that bard he sometimes travels with. Mentioned the man had been angling for years to come up, guess he finally convinced Geralt. I’ll ready one of the spare rooms. You finish hanging these.”

“I was working on the ramparts,” Lambert complained.

“And you were the one bitching about the drafts in here. The cold gets in, it stays in,” Vesemir gave him a look, “or you can ready the spare room, which would mean going to the linen storage.”

Lambert couldn’t help but flinch. “I will hang tapestries.” Look, he wasn’t scared of the storage room, it was just those stacks of sheets looked like fucking wraiths and he really hated wraiths. He went around the room stuffing cracks with cloth and hanging furs over top. It was giving the huge room a wild, barbaric look, and he kind of liked it. He could hear bickering and then Eskel calling a greeting as he hung the last few tapestries. He turned to call a greeting to Geralt, and he fell off the stool he had been standing on.

He turned it into a roll and was back up immediately, but they were all staring at him.

“It was Lambert?” Geralt shouted. “I thought you had taste, and it was Eskel!”

“My dear witcher, if I had taste would I really be your travel companion?” Jaskier replied, and Lambert snorted a bit. “Hello, Lambert.”

“Yeah, uhh, hello. Welcome to Kaer Morhen. Bye.” Lambert stalked out of the hall, and after a quick grab of supplies, was out of the keep entirely. He needed a couple days to process that the man he had fucked at that ball was Geralt’s bard. He had honestly assumed he’d never see that man again. Why would he, a random chance encounter in a place a witcher shouldn’t have even been. He wasn’t embarrassed about how the man had seen him, just that he had been seen at all.

A few days alone and he figured it was safe to go back, that Geralt would be over the shock of his bard fucking his fellow wolf. And hopefully there would be no talking about it at all. He brought some kills and had lucked out found some early winter berries that he would bring back for Vesemir to make some jam, as an indulgence. Lambert took it all to the kitchens and Vesemir was pleased with the selection he had brought back. “Bard has settled in fine.”

“Good,” Lambert said.

“Do you need to talk about anything?”

“I do not,” Lambert said firmly. He felt a bit grimy and looked at the tub in the corner. “Mind if I?” The fires were well going in the kitchen, the water would heat quickly. Vesemir just nodded, as he was busy with bread. Lambert went to the pump that was built into the kitchen, filled a couple of the kettles and put them at the fire to warm and half filled the tub with cold. He scraped the worst of the grime off with the salt and oil they had for that, cleared it off his skin. The kettles were heated enough that added to the cold water, made for a lukewarm bath. Vesemir tossed a bit of rosemary at him and Lambert dropped the sprigs in the water. He had always loved the smell of rosemary, though never known why.

He settled in and sighed in contentment. A bit later, Vesemir added another kettle of water that was almost to boiling which made it a good temperature. “Thank you.”

“Hot bath with put moisture in the air, good for my bread,” Vesemir declared. Lambert smirked a bit at him.

“Or you love me, old man.”

“You are like that fungus on my left foot that has been there 200 years now. Annoying, abrasive, but something I am accustomed to.”

Lambert laughed at that, and he smiled when a glass of wine was pressed into his hand. Definitely just a fungus. He finished up and opened the spout at the base of the tub that slowly drained the water through specifically designed hole in the ground, a shoot that took the water outside. He was handed a bowl of soup when he was out of the water and he drank it down in a few gulps. He started to leave, when Vesemir growled at him, “You weren’t raised in a barn, and we have company. Cover yourself.”

“He’s already seen it all, old man,” Lambert reminded him, and he wasn’t putting those grimy clothes back on again. He made it to his room without being seen, but froze once he was in the door, because there were a couple boxes on the chest he had at the foot of his bed. They smelled like the bard. He went over and poked at them a bit just in case they were a bomb, which was insane, but nothing happened. He opened the smaller and inside were two very delicate shifts for under dresses, exquisite embroidery around the collar and hem. He could feel his calluses snagging on the fabric it was so delicate. He carefully put them down on his bed and opened the larger box.

He smiled a bit as he pulled the boots out. They were leather and fabric, lush stitching, a bit of a heel. They’d just go over his ankles versus the boots that were generally worn on the path. The bard had traveled all that way to Kaer Morhen to bring these to Lambert. That was interesting. He left the boots on the chest, put on some breeches and a loose shirt, went down to the main hall. He settled in by the fire with a book, eventually other voices coming along.

“Lambert, you’re back,” Eskel called.

“I am,” Lambert agreed. He looked at the three coming towards him. Geralt and Eskel’s eyes were on his face, Jaskier’s were on his feet. And he seemed disappointed that Lambert was in the soft shoes they wore around the keep. 

“We need to talk,” Geralt said, and he had on that super ridiculous I am a serious man look on his face. “Alone.”

Lambert shrugged and stood up. “Sure,” he agreed and followed Geralt, and yeah on his way he smacked his book against Jaskier’s ass and enjoyed the way the man jumped. Eskel snickered, and Geralt got even more solemn looking. Once they were down the hall well away from ears, Geralt stood at ease in front of him.

“I am sorry,” Geralt nodded his sincerity.

Lambert was confused, “For what?”

“For bringing Jaskier, and upsetting you that you had to run away at the sight of him. I should have taken him down the mountain right then, but Vesemir reassured me it was fine. But still, clearly your encounter with him was not a good one, and I will not violate the winter sanctity of Kaer Morhen with tensions between you and he. At home, you are my priority.”

Lambert sighed. “You giant buffoon. We did kinky as fuck shit, and it was just a shock to see a man that fucked me like that again when I had assumed I never would. Just needed some breathing space. There will be no tensions, wolf, promise.”

Geralt had winced at the word kinky, because the man had insanely simple tastes in bed. Which was hilarious considering the particular sorceresses he was always attracted to. “Are you sure?”

Lambert punched his arm. “Yeah, likely letting him fuck me tonight if you don’t mind.”

“I do not. We are not particularly compatible due to that interest in kinky as fuck shit.” Geralt was looking at the wall, and not Lambert. “Just, he can be pushy and if he oversteps, let me know. He sometimes pretends to listen to me.”

Lambert would never tell Geralt how much he adored the man. “I can handle one damn bard.”

“You know whatever it is, I support you right?”

Fuck, he hated when Geralt got like this. “Of course I do. Like how I support you being an idiot. It is just who we are and we are all fine with whatever it is we do and do now know about each other at this point in our weird and shitty lives.”

“Everything is fine then?”

Lambert had to hit him again to prove it. “Yes, now can we go back to the hall?” Oh for fuck’s sake, now Geralt was hugging him. He patted the man’s butt. “How much does Yen want to spank this bit of juicy flesh?” He snickered when Geralt leapt back, the words scalding as boiling water would. “That much, huh?” Geralt hurried away, and Lambert hoped that would result in only one or two more hugs this winter.

It was a good day in the hall, Jaskier was playing and the man was actually brilliant. Lambert read while Eskel and Geralt played cards and switched in when Eskel wanted to talk to Jaskier. Dinner was good, and Vesemir after recounted long forgotten tales for Jaskier’s eager ears. But eventually Lambert grew tired of waiting. “Right, I’m going up to my room now. Jaskier, you can stay for more of the old man’s stories, or come on with and fuck me. But have to decide now. If you say no, probably a few weeks before we explore what you brought up the mountain with you.”

Lambert gave the table a nod, and started towards the door that lead to the bed chambers. 

“Geralt, love you. Vesemir more stories tomorrow. Eskel, something. Fare thee well.” As Lambert opened the door, Jaskier was next to him. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Lambert greeted.

The walk to Lambert’s room was quiet, and he cast igni to light the candles around the space, a few logs onto the low fire. He sat in the chair by the fire and looked at Jaskier. “So Geralt’s bard, huh?”

“Excuse me, no, he is my witcher,” Jaskier huffed a bit.

“Not tonight,” Lambert challenged.

“No, not tonight. Tonight you are my witcher. A different sort of my witcher. Tell me, my witcher -”

“Lambert.”

He shivered at the smile that Jaskier gave him, soft and full of promise. “Is that what you want me to call you?”

Lambert smiled back. “For now, later you can call me whatever you wish. What is with the gifts?”

“You said you liked pretty things. And I hoped to have a chance to give them to you. I like, I have a lot of money, between the being a viscount and one of the most popular bards on the continent. I try to by things for Geralt, but he gets all noble and stubborn.”

“The mutagens did that. I, however am not at all noble. Is this all you bought me?” He gestured to the boots and shifts.

“No, I have more, but I was hardly going to give you everything I brought right away was I?” Jaskier picked up the boots and the shift. “One, the other, both?”

“Which do you want to see me in most?” He watched Jaskier swallow, wanted to bite his throat. “Oh, you really have a preference don’t you?”

“The boots.” Jaskier was already smelling like arousal, his eyes dilated. “Know a man in Novigrad, made all this. Makes all sorts of interesting things.”

“Did you have him make anything interesting just for me?” There was a catch of breath and Lambert stood up. He easily stripped off his clothes and sat back down. “Want me in just the pretty boots?”

“You said you like pretty things, feeling pretty. I brought you pretty.” Lambert held out a hand, but Jaskier was clutching the boots close. “I want to,” he said. “Can I?”

Lambert looked down at his feet. He was missing a toe and the one ankle heavily scarred from getting stuck in wolf trap once. He was fully aware of the irony. “If you have a thing for feet, I don’t think mine will do a lot for you.” 

“No, I have a thing for boots,” Jaskier said. He moved and sat on the ground. “Can I?”

“Sure,” Lambert had to admit that he was a bit curious. He had a thing for pretty clothes, but never been very into the shoes. These boots were nice, brown leather, a dark red floral fabric in spots, red ties. “Want me just in the boots?” There was a flush on Jaskier’s cheeks now. “No, there is something else isn’t there?”

The boots were put down carefully and Jaskier crawled back to the box and fuck, that was hot. He pulled something out and oh that was nice. Stockings delicate almost like spider web, laces woven in at the top. Lambert purred a bit at the sight. “Those I put on, then you can do whatever you want with the boots.” There was a nod and Jaskier was there kneeling on the ground. It was a bit of a different game than the night of the gala, but then they hadn’t been a witcher and bard then, rather a noble girl and humble farmer.

Lambert wondered who they would be next time.

He took the stockings, gathered them in his hand and pulled them on carefully. He had worn them before but never had a pair to fit his thighs so well. Usually it was a struggle, but these had clearly been made for a man. They felt so damn luxurious and he tied sweet little bows to hold them in place. Lambert put his foot on Jaskier’s shoulder to admire the look. “Thank you,” Lambert said. He smiled at Jaskier, ran his toe along the man’s jaw and when he put his foot down, Jaskier leaned forward. “Boots,” Lambert reminded him. 

Jaskier nodded picked up one boot. He loosened the laces and was lightly stretching the leather. “Do you mind if I talk?” Jaskier asked.

“No,” Lambert was watching him and was surprised at how servile the man seemed. “Say whatever you like.”

“My thanks, sweet dove.” There was a smirk. Servile, but not passive. He continued to gently move the leather about and then put the boot between his thighs. “I didn’t used to care about boots much. Then I started following a witcher about. You want that much it becomes a topic that you have very specific opinions about. Spent a fortune getting custom made boots that would endure and I loathed them.”

“Because you like pretty things.”

Jaskier looked up at him and smiled. “I do like pretty things. Pretty witchers.”

“Why you follow Geralt?”

“Why I am kneeling at your feet, sweetling,” Jaskier said. He was satisfied with where the boot was and drew Lambert’s foot forward. Lambert let Jaskier arch his foot, nudge it into the boot but when the stiff leather resisted, Jaskier eased his foot away and began to manipulate the leather some more. “So I spent an even larger fortune creating practical and beautiful boots. Spent hours cleaning the muck off them. It was a soothing habit to build. And then in a brothel once there was a man wearing nothing but a smile and these gorgeous almost golden boots. And my thoughts about boots changed yet again. It is an act of grace? Kindness to put shoes on a person. There is a children’s story about it. Princess, the right shoe.”

Lambert’s foot was brought forward again and this time it slid in well. That foot was put down and Jaskier began the stretching process again. He was quiet. “Chivalry. You write songs about it and realized the world had so little of it.”

“It was a shock, how little people cared in real life about the things that made them swoon in stories.” Jaskier slid his other foot in. “Do they fit well?”

“Just a touch big, but not like I am walking in them out of this room.”

“Your brothers wouldn’t judge you,” Jaskier began to work the laces tight. “They wouldn’t.”

“I know that,” Lambert shrugged, “but this is mine. I like that the pretty part is a secret of mine. Now a secret of yours. The point isn’t that they wouldn’t accept it, the point is that I don’t want to share.” They were laced nice and snug, the laces wrapped around and then tied in front. “They are really pretty.”

“If there is one thing about the dress you were wearing that night is that it would be in red. You look incredible in a bit of red.” Jaskier was kneeling back, eyes fixed on the boots. Lambert stood and walked around the room. They were just a bit too big but most pretty shoes on him were far too small. So it was nice. He leaned against his wall. Pointed out a boot, and Jaskier crawled to him. “Do you like them?” 

“I do, fuck, but I do.” Lambert wasn’t just talking about the boots. He walked back to the chair and Jaskier crawled after him. “What do you want?” Lambert asked. “You bought me the pretties, what do you want now that they are on?”

Jaskier took off his shirt and he was fitter than Lambert expected, and fuck he loved that hairy chest. Lambert lifted a foot and dragged the boot down the center of Jaskier’s chest, enjoyed the way the man shuddered. He left the foot in Jaskier’s lap and Jaskier began to buff it with his shirt, getting his finger prints off the leather. He’d occasionally wet a finger with his tongue press it to the leather and then buff. When he was satisfied with the one boot, Lambert used the other to tilt Jaskier’s chin up. “Do you want to lick the leather clean?” he asked softly, not putting any inflection in his voice. 

“No, I am content like this,” Jaskier replied.

“But do you want to?”

“Not today, only when I have been very good,” Jaskier began the process with the other boot until they were both gleaming in the fire light. “I will want this a lot. You in nothing but stockings and boots.”

“What else do you want?”

“Touch yourself sweet dove,” Jaskier requested, the softest order that Lambert had ever heard. “Couldn’t see you so well that night, want to watch you fuck you hand, while I change these laces a bit - far too practical, want to make them prettier.”

Lambert sat in the chair, foot in Jaskier’s lap as he pulled the laces out and started over again. He was in awe at the concentration on Jaskier’s face, the focus on making the boots as pretty as he could for Lambert. He was barely glancing up as Lambert’s hand moved up and down slowly on his cock. Lambert kept his grip loose, it was more a tease than anything else. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Jaskier’s face. He was so damn gorgeous. When he was done with the laces, he just stroked his finger over the holes along the edge of the boot, until the hand was wrapped around the ankle. Lambert moved his foot up a bit and pressed down. Even through the leather and sole he could feel that Jaskier was hard. He moved his foot side to side a bit and Jaskier moaned. He took that foot away and put the other in Jaskier’s lap. “Can’t have mismatched laces.”

Jaskier smiled up at him. His eyes were almost all pupil. In the dark they almost looked like witcher eyes hopped up on magic. Fae eyes. He would utterly believe there was a bit of fae in Jaskier. “You could start a fashion trend. Well I could, via your feet.”

Lambert chuckled. “Get to work, Jaskier.”

“Of course, little one,” Jaskier crooned. “I am your servant.”

Lambert’s hand gripped his cock a bit tighter at that, his strokes growing quicker. By the time the second boot was done, Lambert was panting, and Jaskier was almost sweating from keeping in control of himself. He gently kicked Jaskier away, noting the moan that drew from the man and went over to his bed. He had a smaller chest at the head of the bed and he opened it, pulled out a tin. “Fuck me, bend me in half so that the boots are planted on your shoulders and fuck me, bard.”

“With fucking pleasure,” Jaskier snarled. He was on the bed in an instant and had the tin open. There was barely talk after that, no role play, nothing but grunts and moans. Lambert kept playing with his own cock while Jaskier worked him open, a finger, then another. 

“That is fine as long as you well slick your cock,” Lambert demanded. “Need to get fuck, in my pretty stockings and boots that you bought me. Made me look pretty, Jaskier, make me feel pretty.” He watched Jaskier stand up off the bed to take the rest of his clothes. “You are so fucking hairy,” Lambert moaned. 

“Is that good?”

Lambert nodded. “Want to tug on it. Play with all that hair around your cock, watch it move under my breath.”

“Often get complaints.”

“Well people are just awful,” Lambert grinned at him. “Good thing I’m not people, I’m a witcher.”

“A very good thing. I want to buy you a corset,” Jaskier blurted out.

“I would wear it for you,” Lambert replied. “Fuck me, Jas.”

Jaskier moved in between his legs and well slicked his cock. He lined up and Lambert gave him a nod. It stung, Jaskier had a good sized cock, but his body swiftly adjusted, though the man jolted when Lambert wrapped his legs around him, and the boots tapped Jaskier’s ass. “Little one, the gifts I want to shower you in, you can’t even fathom.”

“I will accept everyone. I like the make up that goes around the eyes. That is fun stuff. The black lines?”

“Yesss,” Jaskier moaned and started to snap his hips. Pretty scarves almost sheer draped over your pale skin. Stockings in every colour. Boots, more boots. Anything you want.”

“Right now, I just want you,” Lambert moaned and arched up into the push of Jaskier’s cock. He stopped touching himself so focused on the feel of Jaskier in him. The man was a great fuck, knew how to build that pressure. “Fuck, Jaskier.”

His calves were grabbed with a snarl and then his ankles were on Jaskier’s shoulders as the man did bend him hard, and put everything he had into it. There was just cursing and breath, the sounds of two bodies fucking hard, rising and falling to meet each other. Lambert couldn’t take his eyes off Jaskier; he was so intense, lost in it all and then he turned his head and bit at one of the boots hard, filling his mouth with fabric and leather and it was enough that Lambert felt the orgasm crash through him, overwhelming enough that he forgot to breathe as he arched up into his, his come splashing up his torso and a bit onto Jaskier.

A few more hard thrusts and Jaskier was done as well, and collapsed on top of him. “Ow,” Lambert groaned as his sensitive cock was a bit crushed. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.”

“No, fine, sex no brain left,” Lambert rolled them a bit and they lay on the bed until they were sure their limbs would work again. Jaskier went to the water pitcher cleaned them up and then went to the foot of the bed. He kissed the boot and slowly slid the one off.

“I don’t know if my teeth marks will come out of this one,” he bit his lip as if that bite would magically undo the other one. “I’ll buy you new ones next summer.”

“That’s nice,” Lambert would enjoy them but none would ever compare to these first ones, with a teeth imprint in them. “Staying in here tonight?”

“If you like.”

“I would like,” Lambert agreed. Jaskier started to pull the stockings off. “Think I’ll leave those one, maybe sleep just in them.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned and his spent cock twitched a bit. “Don’t know if I’ll be able to stop from fucking you in your sleep seeing you in just those.”

“So fuck away, I won’t mind.”

“Geralt doesn’t like surprises waking him up.”

“I’m not Geralt. I like those sorts of surprises,” Lambert gently said. “We’re wolves, but there are lots of different wolves. For example you know I’ll let you spoil me rotten, and that I like wearing pretty things. That’s different isn’t it? You could have all winter to find out all sorts of differences, if you wanted.” 

Jaskier moved back onto the bed and was cuddling up against him. “I want,” was whispered against his shoulder.

Lambert smiled in contentment. “So what else did you bring up the mountain?”

He wasn’t given an answer but he was fucked awake twice in the night and when he woke in the morning, he was alone, the sun high so he had clearly slept in. There was something wrapped in delicate paper at the foot of the bed, waiting for him. He opened it and found a pile of ribbons in the softest colours, reams of lace. Lambert let them flow through his fingers.

He was very excited to see what the rest of winter brought. 


End file.
